


i can't escape this hell

by jolymusichetta



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: All couples and characters will be brought into the story as time goes on, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Couples may change, F/F, F/M, M/M, Post 3B Premiere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolymusichetta/pseuds/jolymusichetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson is back from London and it's almost like things are normal again. Or, as normal as they can get in Beacon Hills. But there's the added factor that he's dating Stiles, who is, in turn, losing his fucking mind along with Scott and Allison, Derek's missing, Lydia is enjoying the fact that she's not the crazy one anymore, even though she totally shouldn't be enjoying that, Isaac and Allison are getting a little too close. And there's a new girl who knows a little more than she's letting on. Totally not suspicious or anything. </p><p>How the hell did Beacon Hills survive without him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lydia Martin Needs to Stop

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't done anything multichaptered in a long while and I'm undoubtedly going to lose motivation for this at some point, so please, just be patient with me.

In all honesty, Jackson should’ve seen it coming. It being his overactive boyfriend who probably took too much Adderall and was now bounding towards him as he stepped into the area where the arrival flights let out; A hyper ball of Stiles who had his mind focused on only one thing: Jackson. Who had jetlag. 

Great.

It didn’t even matter that Stiles had a good few inches on Jackson height wise, or that Jackson was trailing his suitcase behind him, he flung himself at Jackson, whom he hadn’t seen in person since he moved to London, and fully expected Jackson to help keep him up while they had their cheesy airport kiss.

Now if only Jackson had gotten his hand free from his bag in time and hadn’t tried to grab his suitcase as it fell, weighing just a bit too much and tipping over. It was probably a good thing his laptop was in the messenger bag over his shoulder. He just barely caught Stiles before he fell on his ass and stifled a laugh. As if he hadn’t known it before, he was dating an idiot. 

“Good job, loser,” he said. Stiles looked offended for a grand total of three seconds before deciding it wasn’t worth it and kissing Jackson, his hands cupping his jaw. It was passionate and deep and even Jackson’s parents, who had spent time with Jackson and Lydia watching a movie, most of which Jackson and Lydia didn’t watch, looked a little surprised to see that. 

So maybe they didn’t get to have their Nicholas Sparks kiss, not that either Stiles or Jackson would admit to wanting one, but hey, when you’ve been dating with thanks to Skype and had an eight hour time difference, you’d take whatever kind of kiss you could get. 

Stiles took the handle of Jackson’s suitcase as his parents went to get their luggage from baggage claim. It was nice, seeing Jackson. Jackson and the whole Kanima bullshit that they went through made this … whatever they were going through look easy. It was going to be good to have Jackson back. Lydia was great and all, but sometimes, she was even haughtier than Jackson. And that was a difficult feat to accomplish. Not that many tried. Or wanted to.

So when Jackson’s hand found Stiles and their fingers intertwined, it felt right. Right in a way that not even Lydia’s hand in his felt. Of course, they were at an airport a few towns away from Beacon Hills, because Beacon Hills itself was too tiny to have its own airport so Jackson was perfectly okay with holding hands. But had they been in Beacon Hills, there would be no way he was holding Stiles’ hand. Jackson Whittemore does not hold hands. 

Stiles secretly found this hilarious because the whole of Beacon Hills, and possibly a good portion of London, knew that Lydia had Jackson whipped. And she taught Stiles how to do it. One little pout, a good pair of puppy dog eyes and a good blowjob every so often, which Stiles had mastered (the pout and the puppy dog eyes, not the blowjob. Although he was pretty good at that too) and Jackson was putty. 

Stiles also presumed that it was because no one was stupid enough to cross Lydia Martin unless they wanted their reputation to burn to the ground. But he wasn’t about to tell that to Lydia and let her ego grow any bigger than it already was.

“You okay?” Jackson asked as Stiles checked over his shoulder for the sixth time in ten minutes, looking twitchier than normal. And for Stiles, that was saying something. Stiles nodded in response. He wasn’t about to lie to a werewolf who could hear his heart beating and could hear it speed up when he lied.

Jackson raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment, getting his bag off the luggage carousel. “Hey, Mom? I’m gonna head over to Stiles’ house and then we’re going out tonight. We’re at our old house again, right?” After making sure he was going to the right place, he pulled Stiles out to his Jeep and they tossed his stuff in the trunk. “Talk. What’s up with you lately? You’ve been acting cagey. And I know something’s going on because I still talk to Lydia. So don’t try to sell me that _I’m fine_ bullshit.” 

Stiles made a mental note to wring Lydia’s neck for that.

As they got in the Jeep, Jackson put his hand over Stiles’, stopping him from pulling out of his parking spot, face softer than it had been moments before. “You look exhausted, Stilinski. And when the guy who has jetlag is telling you that you look exhausted, you know it’s bad.”

“Is that the nice way of telling me that I look like shit?” Stiles asked, sounding as offended as one could while running on only two hours of sleep, most of which hadn’t even been good sleep. “Still, I guess it’s a step up from you calling me Testicle Right.” He was rambling, like he always did when he was trying to distract someone from something. But that wasn’t saying much, he rambled a lot.

After a minute of listening to him go on, Jackson squeezed his hand to get him to shut up. “Stiles .. c’mon. It’s just me. I’m not a monster you have to shield yourself from anymore. Don’t even think of me as a werewolf. Think of me as a concerned boyfriend who just wants to help.”

Stiles bit his lip, thinking over how to explain this with finesse, which, as a Stilinski, he didn’t do well. “Uh … we were going to tell you tomorrow. Let you get a chance to see everyone again.”

“Oh, like Scott and Allison, who are acting just as secretive as you are?” shot back Jackson expectantly.

God damn it, Lydia. “Can we wait to have this conversation? Preferably until it’s not just me trying to explain what’s going on and until we know what happened to Derek?”

“Derek’s gone?”

Stiles nodded, running a hand through his hair as he tried to straighten out his thoughts. Fuck, where was his Adderall when he needed one? “He and Cora, his sister, who is alive and has been for the past six years, apparently, left and he was supposed to keep in touch and no one’s heard from him so whatever we’re up against, we’re up against with only Deaton’s help and too much shit is going on for this to work out in our favor!” He slapped the steering wheel in frustration and nearly gave himself a heart attack when the horn blared. Well, if he wasn’t awake before, he was now. 

This was a side of Stiles that Jackson had never seen. Sure he was never … composed but looking this worn out was not something that should’ve been possible. “Hey. Hey, breathe. C’mon, we’re going to figure this out. But for now, switch places with me. I don’t want you driving.” 

For once, Stiles didn’t argue. He got into the passenger seat without complaint. “My address is already in the GPS,” he said, leaning back against the seat as Jackson pulled out of the parking spot and they started for Beacon Hills.

“So, we’re taking a nap when we get back to your place because it feels like it is one am for me and I’m tired. And then we’re meeting up with everyone and I’m going to get filled in on whatever the fuck is going on.” God he left for a few months and everything turned to shit? He really was needed around that town. 

Stiles just nodded, watching out of the window just to make sure that nothing was getting dangerously close to them. He didn’t want to say that he couldn’t sleep without having nightmares anymore. But he was silent for more than a few seconds, which worried Jackson because Stiles Stilinski did not do quiet. That was like asking Greenberg not to be a kiss ass. 

He reached over and took Stiles’ hand, lacing their fingers together. “Hey … I’m not going to let anything hurt you.” He had seen Lydia in a hospital bed once and he didn’t want to have to see Stiles in the same predicament. 

“I know,” Stiles said. It wasn’t a total lie. He just really didn’t think Jackson could protect him from his own subconscious.


	2. Scott Needs to Enjoy the Little Things

“Last time we did this,” Scott said, easily leaning back against the door as Lydia pressed him up against it, her hands in his hair, “Stiles handcuffed me to a radiator.” And implied that kissing the girl he’d liked since the third grade was very much a dick move. 

Lydia rolled her eyes as she pulled away to look up at Scott. “Do you want to keep talking about what happened last year with Stiles or do you want to make out?” she asked, letting him pull her back in. “Not like he hasn’t moved on anyway,” she mumbled.

It was Scott’s turn to pull back, eyebrows knit together and that adorably confused puppy dog face on. “Wait, what?” Stiles moved on from Lydia, what the hell? Okay, that part wasn’t the strangest part of them all, it was more of the fact that Stiles hadn’t told him. Which was really odd because they told each other everything. 

Scott looked at his current situation. Okay, well, maybe not everything but damn near close to it. So maybe it was someone on the same scale of “ _you’re hooking up with them?!_ ” that his relationship with Lydia was on.

Lydia’s eyes widened. How did he not know about this? “Stiles didn’t tell you?” she asked, running her hands down his chest for just a moment before he pulled away entirely and moved around her to go sit down. 

“No, he told you?” Scott asked as Lydia moved to sit down next to him, eyebrows knit together as he tried to work out why Stiles would tell Lydia and not his best friend.  
Lydia couldn’t help but smile, not even bothering to try and fight it back or hide it behind her hand because this is where things got interesting. “No … he didn’t tell me,” she said, pausing for dramatic effect. “Jackson did.”

And, of course, what Lydia was trying to tell him went right over Scott’s head and she sighed. “He told the guy who used to torment us but not his best friend?” As he said it, a thought dawned on him and his eyes widened. “Are you – Jackson and Stiles?!” 

This was so not happening. Lydia was fucking with him, that’s all; trying to see if that news was a major boner killer. And the facts are in: It was. That was so messed up, why the hell would Stiles start dating Jackson Whittemore, douchebag extraordinaire, of all people? But then Scott thought back to the first and last person Stiles hooked up with, that Heather girl who died that very same night and he didn’t blame him for wanting a relationship with someone who was a bit more … durable. And, as a werewolf, Jackson was about as durable as they come. 

Meanwhile, Lydia slid his phone into her pocket, so he couldn’t send any rash texts, and crossed her legs while she waited for Scott to come back to his senses and sit down. “Stop panicking,” she said when he finally did sit down, rubbing the space between his shoulder blades. He rested his head in his hands after checking them over, making sure no claws or anything were coming out. “You okay?” Lydia asked quietly, kissing his shoulder lightly.

Scott wanted to answer yes, that he was okay, but the reality of it was no, Stiles was dating Jackson fucking Whittemore, who went around killing people as a giant lizard and who would’ve killed them as a human after they left him shackled inside a police transport van (even Scott checked his back for a few days after that, restraining order aside) and he was going out of his fucking mind and was losing his ability to control his shift and wow, he would have never seen this coming. Maybe they could swap Jackson out for a psychic or something. They psychic would be a lot more helpful.

Lydia stood up after a minute or two of silence, thinking back to when she had gone batshit and left the hospital, running around in the woods naked and all of her friends looked at her sympathetically, but she could see behind the sympathetic faces and see the parts of them that thought she was entirely crazy. So did she feel bad for her friends? Of course she did, they were her friends and they were out of their minds but … they sort of made her look normal.

Alright, so that sounded really bad but it was true. Lydia, poor Lydia, the girl who always found the bodies and who nearly died herself, was no longer the crazy one at Beacon Hills High and that was a blessing in and of itself. It’s not like she wouldn’t be there for them, because she was a loyal friend, really, but, for once, the spotlight was shining on someone else and she was okay with that.

After a moment, Lydia stood, digging through the music on her phone until she found a slow song that she still kind of liked. “Come on,” she said, extending her hand to Scott. “Dance with me.” Scott took her hand and stood up, winding his arms around her waist as her arms went around his neck. “They were going to tell you tonight,” she said, closing her eyes as they did that awkward sway type dancing that people only ever did at high school dances, when there wasn’t enough room to actually dance. “So … pretend you don’t know. For their sake.” And hers. She was pretty sure Stiles was ready to wring her neck and she didn’t really blame him.

“Do you still have feelings for him? For Jackson?” Scott asked quietly, as if he were afraid it would ruin the peace that had come over his mind and managed to keep the claws away. 

“Honestly?” 

_No, Lydia, lie to me, please. I’ll be able to tell if you are anyway_ , Scott thought, the sarcasm unintentional but fitting nonetheless.

“Yes. I do,” she said, “But the past is in the past and Scott, you’re the present and the present is what matters now. Not dwelling on what happened or what could happen. You just need to … enjoy the moment.”

Scott nodded. She had a good point and he should enjoy every moment he got where he didn’t feel like he was about to hurt someone. Especially when those moments were far and few in between.


End file.
